


Stick and Poke

by BullySquadess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Tumblr made me do it, idk this is just a ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little drabble prompted from a tumblr post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original post by catxnoir on tumblr >>> http://bullysquadess.tumblr.com/post/137597546057/catxnoir-imagine-adrienette-when-theyre-like-18

It was stupid really.

Stupid and brash and a whole bunch of other words Marinette couldn’t conjure up through the pounding in her head. She thought she had planned for the worst when Alya told her they had big things in store for them on the night of her 18th birthday, but apparently Marinette was unable to grasp the full scope of her best friend’s intentions.

See for her, “big” meant loud music and dancing, maybe a night on the town followed by a 1 am pizza splurge before graciously falling in to bed sometime after. Big was crazy colorful lipstick and embarrassing selfies in the back of the cab. Big was a synonym for fun, a night she would recall fondly for years to come.

Yet for Alya, the word seemed to take on an entirely new meaning.

Alya’s big was surprising Marinette with a party bus (one graciously “borrowed” from her mother’s hotel) packed with 20 of their closest friends.

Alya’s big was body shots and stripper pole shenanigans as their group made their way downtown.

Alya’s big was closing down the club, throwing cake in the supermarket, taking a dip in the Seine, and leading her classmates on an impromptu hunt for Ladybug and Chat Noir through the dark streets of Paris. It was gate-jumping, police-fleeing, swan-bitten (don’t ask) BIG.

And unfortunately for Marinette, Alya’s big included a trip to the tattoo parlor.

“How bad is it?” She groaned, sweeping her hair away so Tikki could get a good look at her neck.

“I think it looks nice…” The kwami giggled, holding up a tiny mirror so her charge get a glance at herself.

“Well I think it looks like a drunken mistake!” Marinette nearly yelled, wincing as her own loud voice reverberated through her rattling skull. She sighed, adjusting the mirror in her hand to fully assess the damage.

Yep. There it was. 

Stinging as bad as it had the night before, the tiny design sat dead center at the back of her neck, situated right below her hairline. The skin around it was slightly flushed, and Marinette let out another groan at this idea it could possibly infected. But if her memory of last night served correct (which lets face it, there was about a 50/50 chance at this point in her hangover) she recalled the tattoo artist telling her that a little redness was normal.

“Just keep it clean and keep it moisturized and it will heal up in no time.” He had said, to which Marinette responded with a vaguely affirmative sound before the recollection cut off once again. The next memory she could conjure was at the park, something about breadcrumbs and then….oh god so many feathers….

Marinette shivered, shutting down the thought before she threw up for the second time that morning (afternoon).

 Seeing as though she only had a measly 18 hours before she had to wake up for school the next day, the teen made the executive decision to put off being regretful in order to devote her full attention where it really mattered…to her bed. In fact Marinette just managed to send a mass text, confirming her friend where still alive, before she nuzzled once more beneath her covers. She silently prayed for another akuma-less night, falling into a dead slumber.

And when Marinette woke up on Monday morning, feeling marginally better from her uninterrupted dreams, she silently thanked every deity she could call upon that Hawkmoth had allowed her to sleep soundly. With a swipe of under eye concealer, a comfy pair of sweatpants, and hair falling loose across her shoulders, Marinette managed to convince her parents she wasn’t completely demolished. Hell she even made it to school on time, flashing an equally beat Alya a weak thumbs up before settling in for class.

 

Yes, it seemed like her good fortune had pulled through once again, despite the tiny, black cat she had tattooed along the nape of her neck.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk heres more of this???  
> (un beta-d for your viewing nightmare)

Adrien wasn’t what you’d call a drinker.

At least not since the mid-season gala four years back where he’d low-key blacked out on champagne in an attempt to make the night end quickly, that is.  Because now even the mere _thought_ of imbuing alcohol sent up a red flag, memories of that hellish morning-after prompting Adrien’s mouth to snap shut in an attempt at pure self-preservation.

That being said, the boy didn’t need liquid courage to fuel his bad decisions.

Nope, he could make those all on his own folks.

Of course _Adrien_ didn’t view the tattoo as a bad decision (he’d soberly sat through the pain of having it applied after all, slipping the artist a 50 euro note as he hopped off the stool), but one Mr. Agreste was another case entirely, having plenty of words to say on the matter.

Well words… and biting remarks… and finally the good old fashioned “You are the face of a brand” talk, but you get the idea.

‘ _Geez,’_ Adrien thought, simmering as he exited his father’s study that Sunday afternoon, _‘you’d think I’d branded my forehead with the way he carried on. Seriously, there’s such a thing as airbrushing, as you well know Mister What-Are-You-Talking-About-Of-Course-I-Don’t-Have-Wrinkles.’_

The teen made his way up the front stairs, not at all resenting his “punishment”. Grounding was just another word for vacation in his eyes, and being confined to his room for the rest of the day was nothing if not a well-deserved break for the over-worked model. Adrien grinned as he slid down into his office chair, letting his fingers glide over his left collarbone in recollection.

Last night had been fun.

Scratch that. Last night had been an absolute _blast._

Last night had been the Lycee experience he’d been desperately missing out on since joining the public school scene, complete with friends, dancing and more than enough shenanigans to make up for his years of sheltered solitude. Never before had Adrien been given the opportunity to cut loose like he had on his previous night’s excursion… at least not outside of a skintight latex cat suit, that is.  

Simply put, he’d had fun. Adrien had yelled and danced and swore and sang, and (unlike many of his classmates) he’d done it all while stone cold sober, meaning he could remember every moment of their outing.

 He remembered excitedly boarding the partybus with a spring in his step, immediately falling onto the cushioned bench beside Nino as the DJ hijacked the aux cord.

He remembered Marinette’s utterly shocked expression when their raucous group had rolled up to the bakery, the birthday girl allowing her best friend to pull her aboard with a nod to the driver and a call for more shots.

He remembered Kim nearly getting a concussion in a freak stripper pole accident, he remembered Jeluka smearing icing across his face in their mid-market food fight, and he remembered Alya vaulting a chain link fence as she muttered something about superhero trapping.

(He remembered shaking his head in ironic fascination, joining in on her hunt despite knowing for a fact their group would _not_ be coming across a certain cat-eared casanova that night.)

Geese.

For better or worse he remembered _geese._

_‘So many goddamn geese…’_

Yet, without a doubt, the memory Adrien could most clearly recall happened at the tail end of their evening, when his friends where all either passed out or inked up. The tiny sting that now emanated from under his collar was only a further reminder of his “definitely-not-a-bad-decision”, and the teen couldn’t resist pulling the fabric aside to grin down at his new mark for perhaps the fifth time that day.

 _‘Father can say what he wants,’_ Adrien mused, admiring the bright red ladybug stamped over his heart, _‘but this was most definitely not a mistake.’_

**Author's Note:**

> i might write more on this and i might not.   
> maybe ill just leave it for when i need a break from my other fics or if i get writer's block.  
> either way, thanks for reading!


End file.
